
Derek was two grades older and twice Tommy's size. He'd wait by the bus stop and just pummel him while other kids watched.
My parents kept saying they'd handle it, but nothing changed. The school said they "couldn't do anything without proof."
So I started following the school bus in my car.
One Tuesday, I watched Derek corner Tommy behind the 7-Eleven. Started punching him in the stomach while Tommy just curled up on the ground.
I didn't get out of my car. I didn't yell or threaten Derek.
Instead, I followed him home. Learned his routine. Where he lived. When his parents weren't around.
But here's what I discovered that changed everything.
Derek's dad was never home. His mom worked three jobs just to keep their lights on. The house was falling apart - broken windows covered with cardboard, weeds growing through the front steps.
And Derek? He was taking care of his little sister every day after school. Making her dinner. Helping with homework. Putting her to bed.
I realized Derek wasn't some rich kid picking on the weak. He was angry at the world and taking it out on Tommy.
That should have made me feel bad for him. It didn't.
I kept watching. Learned that Derek's only escape was this tiny hamster named Buster that his sister had given him for his birthday. He'd sit in his room talking to it, feeding it treats, letting it run around on his bed.
The hamster was literally the only thing that made Derek smile.
I also discovered something else. Derek's mom left every Thursday at 6 PM for her night shift at the hospital. His sister went to their grandma's house. Derek would be alone for exactly two hours before grandma dropped his sister back off.
Perfect window.
But the night I broke in, everything went wrong.
I was in Derek's room, reaching for the hamster cage, when I heard the front door slam. Derek was home early from practice.
I panicked. Grabbed the cage and dove under his bed just as his footsteps hit the stairs.
For twenty minutes, I laid there listening to Derek frantically searching for Buster. Calling the hamster's name. Getting more and more upset.
Then Derek did something that broke my heart.
He started crying. Not angry crying. Scared, desperate crying.
"Buster, please come back," he whispered. "You're all I have."
I realized in that moment that Derek's anger came from the same place as Tommy's fear. They were both just scared kids trying to survive.
But I was already committed. I waited until Derek left to search the neighborhood, then snuck out with the cage.
The next week at school, I watched Derek transform. The aggressive bully became this hollow, sad kid who barely spoke to anyone. He stopped picking on Tommy completely, but not because he'd learned his lesson.
He stopped because he was too depressed to care about anything.
Then I learned something that made everything worse. Derek's little sister had been asking their mom every day if Santa could bring Buster back for Christmas. She thought he'd run away because she wasn't taking good enough care of him.
Derek was working extra hours at a gas station, saving every penny to buy his sister a new hamster for Christmas morning. But it wouldn't be the same. Buster was special because his sister had picked him out herself two years ago with her own allowance money.
I watched Derek break down in the school bathroom one day, sobbing into his hands. A teacher found him and asked what was wrong. Derek just said he'd "lost something important" and couldn't get it back.
Derek came to school the next day crying, putting up "missing pet" flyers everywhere. Asking everyone if they'd seen his hamster named Buster.
I kept the hamster in a cage in my garage for two weeks. Fed it. Took care of it.
Then I left an anonymous note in Derek's locker: "Stop hurting Tommy or your hamster dies."
Derek never touched my brother again.
I returned the hamster a month later by "finding" it in the park.
Tommy thinks Derek just got bored and moved on to someone else.